


Legendary

by annabeth



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Barebacking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Glasses, Katsuki Yuuri's Stamina, Language Kink, M/M, Mentions of Underage, bottom!viktor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 19:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth/pseuds/annabeth
Summary: Another Yuuri-has-amazing-stamina fic!





	Legendary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadesofhades](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadesofhades/gifts).



> Takes place directly after episode 7, though I don't think I specifically referenced that in the text.

The touch of Yuuri's skin to Viktor's fingertips, the soft tickle of his pubic hair as it brushes his balls, it is almost too much, too unexpected, this gift.

There's a touch of magic in the air, this first time. Yuuri leaning over Viktor, moving his bangs back with a whisper of movement, his lips forming words that Viktor can't hear. But he can read them—Japanese words that he doesn't understand, not yet. Viktor's not surprised that entering his body for the first time has caused Yuuri to forget his English; Viktor's long been notorious for losing his mind and babbling in Russian during sex.

But this is different. This is Yuuri, the first person to teach him anything about life and love. And one of the things he's taught him about love is that Viktor doesn't want to respond in Russian. He wants the Japanese words for _I love you_ , and he wants to take them into his heart and _own_ them. So that no one, once they've been said to Yuuri, can ever say them to anyone again. Viktor knows that's unreasonable, and he doesn't care. What he feels for Yuuri is so _beyond_ anything he could have ever imagined, he doesn't have the right words.

It's why he needs those words, in Yuuri's beautiful language, to truly tell his lover how he feels. At last, he can say Yuuri is his _lover_ , too, as Yuuri bends himself nearly in half to reach Viktor's lips; they kiss like they've just discovered kisses, like the fervency in their lips is matched only by that in their bodies, which is matched only in the intensity of what Viktor feels in his heart, and what he hopes is hidden but burning in Yuuri's.

And then Yuuri's lips part from his on a gasp, his neck arching, as he fits a little bit deeper inside. Viktor can feel every goddamn startling hot inch in his body. In that moment, Viktor forgets all about those lofty notions and bites in, a stream of Russian, _Fuck, Yuuri, yes. Make me feel it. Let me feel it. Ah!_

He knows Yuuri doesn't understand the words, but his brain has become suffocatingly slow, all of the blood is his body centering on those two places where he's pinioned by Yuuri: his soft, heated entrance and the way Yuuri's abdomen traps his cock in place.

Yuuri's training has melted all of the excess weight off him, and his abs are washboard hard and gorgeous, but a tiny part of Viktor can't wait for the offseason, for letting Yuuri eat the occasional pork cutlet bowl—for the chance to feel his belly against his cock when it's soft and forgiving, almost like a woman's. But truthfully, that time that Viktor said to Yuuri, _let's talk about my lovers,_ he was trying to tell Yuuri how he felt.

Viktor was a teenager when he lost his virginity, fifteen years old and stupid, cocky and reckless. The girl had been a female figure skater he'd been training with, and one hot, sweaty summer day they'd hied off into a janitor's closet and she'd made a gay man out of him.

Even though Yuuri's hips are moving steadily now, even though he can feel the pleasure in each stroke, it's still on his mind to be silly.

How to tell Yuuri, though, that _this_ feels like the first time, all over again? That the number of lovers he's had fades with each thrust, until he can't remember their names anymore. Then more thrusts, and their faces fade too. He never loved any of them, so it's not grief that he feels when he waves goodbye to those memories.

"Yuuri, _beloved_ ," he slips into Russian just for a second. He wants to present the word to Yuuri as a gift, but this is still so new: Yuuri may not be ready. With effort, he switches to English. "I'm not going to break."

Yuuri's hips stutter a little, plunging his cock to a previously unknown depth within Viktor and he feels his lids slam shut as his mouth opens on a bitten-off scream. He can't even bring the English word for that spot to mind, not anymore; it's like all of his words, English and Japanese and even Russian, have blown away like so many feathers. He hitches his own hips up, canting his pelvis, to hold Yuuri there; but Yuuri must be lost in his own bliss, because he takes up the rhythm again.

"Yes, Yuuri," he pants, "harder. Keep at it harder." His English is deteriorating. He wants to urge Yuuri on, to praise him and give encouragement, but his vision is blackening at the edges as orgasm swims close to him, the pleasure so achingly sweet he feels like it's a shark bite coming for him. That it will rend him in half with razor-teeth and he won't mind it a bit.

"Viktor," Yuuri says suddenly, and Viktor realizes just how silent he's been. He wonders all at once if Yuuri has been doing it on purpose. Even his pleasure-sounds have been muffled. "Don't ask me to stop. I can't ever stop."

"Yes, go on," Viktor growls, reaching for Yuuri's flanks, digging his fingers in, hoping his nails score the soft flesh there. Something that will read, later, as _Viktor was here_. "Why would I stop you?"

"Well…" but Yuuri seems to lose his own ability at coherence. He cups Viktor's already-raised ass in his hands and brings him closer, settling himself in the cradle of Viktor's pelvis; he tries something different, something new, as he swivels his hips without withdrawing. His cock, placed sweetly inside, strokes over different areas of Viktor's erogenous zones. It is different. He is pretty sure he likes it, though.

"You understand, Yuuri," Viktor says on an expelled breath, "I never did this before. Not… on the… ah, bottom. This is the first time."

"Don't ask me to be gentle," Yuuri cries, pace picking up; his cock begins to jackknife in and out of him again. "I can't. I can't, Vitya, I'm sorry. Gomen-ne."

"No," Viktor agrees. "I don't _want_ gentle; I want everything you can give me. And more. Never let it stop, Yuuri."

"I won't," Yuuri gasps out, and strikes so deep inside that Viktor can feel the motion in his fingertips; they throb with the erratic, fast beat of his heart, which pounds like an elephant running. "You have me, now. I'm not running anymore."

"No," Viktor agrees, "don't run. Yuuri, make me come. I want to come now." He draws in a damp breath, the scent of sex filling his nose, a fine mist of sweat in the air as their bodies move in tandem.

"Okay," Yuuri says, "do it. Come now."

Yuuri's innocence is written all over him, but he's already mastered dirty talk; Viktor can't stop the spasm that runs through him. Even though the most acute pleasure is centered on his tightening balls and sensitive dick, those words light up every nerve in his body. And Yuuri's slotting perfectly inside, an exact fit as if Yuuri's the knife that was only ever meant to be in Viktor's sheath—it's too much. Stars burst behind his eyes and Viktor comes, cock jerking and twitching, thick ropes of jizz spurting out into the air. Viktor doesn't know if he's striped Yuuri's abdomen with it because he can't muster the energy to even open his eyes.

Somehow the repetition of Viktor's own words back to him made it even hotter than if Yuuri had just said them on his own. He doesn't know why, but he suspects some of it is his own ego; Viktor's always been a guy with a very healthy regard for himself and his own interests.

That might change, though. Yuuri's gorgeous purity and big doe eyes make Viktor want to become someone else, someone better, to deserve him.

Moments pass in a blur, his breath hot in his mouth, his sweat sticky and strafing his forehead from the ends of his hair. His heart is hammering, and his legs are cramping from being lifted so long over Yuuri's shoulders, but reality is beginning to seep back in besides simply the sensations of having sex. Like this, for example: the fact that Yuuri's balls are still slapping against his ass with a wet smack as he pushes in and out of Viktor's swollen rim.

"Yuuri," he asks, finding and forming the English words in his mouth, "why do you have sex so silently?"

"Huh?" Yuuri's aforementioned brown eyes flick upwards. His glasses have slid down his nose from the slickness of the sweat on his face, and Viktor remembers they never even bothered to take them off. There is the tiniest droplet of his own come dangling from the bottom of the frames on one side. "This is my first time?"

"You have never done it for yourself?" Viktor asks, surprised. He would have thought that surely every teenage boy in _any_ country would have tried the magic that is getting yourself off at least once. Viktor remembers from the girl he lost his virginity to that it's more difficult for girls, but he remembers his own experiences too. When he was fourteen, fifteen, sixteen—yes, back then all it took was a couple tugs and some lascivious thoughts and there would be jizz all over his sheets and hands again. But Yuuri is different?

Color floods Yuuri's face in a rush, a deeper, stronger red than the sex flush that had skimmed his cheekbones and gathered at the pulse of his throat. He's embarrassed?

"I did, but, uh…" He slams his hips in particularly hard as if to make his point, or maybe to change the subject, Viktor isn't sure. But now Viktor's satiated and his own cock is soft against his thigh. His brain is capable of logical thought again, which is bad news for Yuuri.

" _Beloved_ ," he says again in Russian, "did you use _me_?"

"I don't know what you mean," Yuuri yelps, and claws his fingers into Viktor's hips. Yuuri's still trying to hold his lower body upwards to get a better angle, but Viktor's boneless and exhausted now, dead weight in his hands. Viktor smiles his smile of "extreme triumph", as he thinks of it.

"You did! Hahaha! Those posters, were they warm under your hands, your lips?"

"Viktor!" Yuuri hangs his head, and guilt flushes through Viktor.

"I'm sorry, Yuuri," he says. "I am flattered, actually. Don't be so ashamed. Look at me."

Their eyes meet and hold, and then Viktor asks, a bit hesitantly, "Yuuri? Are you almost… there?"

"I was quiet because I didn't want anyone to know!" Yuuri blurts, and the words accompany a forceful thrust. Viktor's dick tries to feign interest, twitching slightly, but gives up. It's too soon. "I didn't want them to know that if I did… that… that I was thinking about b—you." This last bit is whispered.

"It is okay, Yuuri," Viktor soothes, wiping at that bit of his come with his finger. "No one is here now but me, and I know what you want. I said I wanted everything, didn't I? Give it to me, Yuuri. I want to hear you scream."

"You will when I come," Yuuri says, "I was never very good at stifling that part."

"Oh? And when might that be?" Viktor asks curiously, as his body shakes on the bed from the strength of Yuuri's thrusts.

Yuuri doesn't answer, just ghosts his finger over Viktor's lower lip.

:::

"Hello? My partner has had an erection lasting longer than four hours, should I be concerned?"

"Viktor!"

end.

**Author's Note:**

> Why yes I am just going to keep reusing the same joke, why do you ask?
> 
> Also, "Gomen-ne"= "I'm sorry" in Japanese.


End file.
